Present Management Stress Disorder

| USA | Working | April 7, 2015

 

(I have severe PTSD and the hectic, noisy atmosphere of my restaurant job can be rough. My boss is a veteran, so he understands and lets me have several breaks to make sure I don’t get too overwhelmed, and the rest of the staff is very understanding about it. I’ve been getting treatment and doing very well. My boss is on vacation this particular week, and has the assistant manager from the morning shifts running the restaurant.)

Assistant Manager: “Hey! Where are you going?”

Me: “I’m taking a break. I’m feeling a bit foggy and need to sit outside for a bit. I won’t be out there for longer than ten minutes.”

Assistant Manager: “You can’t just wander off whenever you feel like it! You have s*** to do!”

Me: “I finished all of the major tasks, and the dinner rush is done. It’s pretty slow right now, so I figured I wouldn’t be missed.”

Assistant Manager: “You’re the one with PDST or whatever, aren’t you? That’s a just a stupid excuse you crazies use to get out of work.  I’m not letting you take advantage of me!”

(He storms over to the back door and starts moving heavy boxes of meat and produce in front of it. I realize what he’s doing and I start to panic.)

Me: “Wait, please. No, please, don’t block the door—”

Assistant Manager: “You are never getting out of here on my watch. You aren’t going home until I say you can!”

Me: *tearing up* “Please don’t. I’m already embarrassed by this as it is, and I can’t move those boxes. I just need to clear my head.”

(The assistant manager then goes to one of the entrances of the restaurant and blocks it with a table and points to me.)

Assistant Manager: “You. Aren’t. Going. Anywhere!”

(I start to have a flashback and curl up on the ground. It’s been a year since I had an episode like this. I hear one of the waitresses run in.)

Waitress: “What’s happening?! [My Name], are you okay?!”

Assistant Manager: “He’s just trying to get attention!”

Waitress: “DID YOU BLOCK THE DOOR?! HE WAS A HOSTAGE IN A ROBBERY, YOU IDIOT! WHY WOULD YOU BLOCK OFF THE DOORS?!”

(The assistant manager went pale and watched while the kitchen staff rushed to my aid. They moved boxes aside, walked me outside, and one of the waitresses even brought me my panic attack medication from my bag. My boss was called. Not only did he scream at the AM for not taking my mental illness seriously, he was also fired because blocking one of the customer exits was a safety hazard in the event of a fire.)

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Not A Be-Liver

| Atlanta, GA, USA | Friendly | April 4, 2015

(We’re a group of kids on a trip dining in a restaurant with a chaperone. We’re all going through the menu.)

Kid: “Chicken liver? Eww! That’s gross!”

(A few others comment in agreement.)

Chaperone: “What are you talking about? Chicken liver’s good.”

Me: “I don’t know. Personally, I’ve never been thrilled about the idea of eating another animal’s poison filter.”

(She ordered fish.)

Scrambling Up The Order

| Paris, France | Right | April 2, 2015

Woman: “I want an omelette: no mushrooms, no meat, no onion, no salt, no pepper, and could the eggs be scrambled?”

Waiter: “So, you want scrambled eggs with tomatoes and cheese?”

Woman: “No, I want an omelette.”

Not Your Regular Zombie Apocalypse

, | USA | Right | April 1, 2015

(I am nearing the end of my shift. Unfortunately the zombie apocalypse started a few hours ago and so my coworkers and I are trying to add defenses to the doors and the windows. An obnoxious regular is trying to get in.)

Regular: “I want my triple cheeseburger, d*** it!”

Me: “Sir! Please get in your car and drive home! Your family will want to see you in this time of need!”

Regular: “F*** my family! And f*** you! You lazy good-for-nothing are just using any excuse not to serve me!”

Coworker: “Sir! Get away from the door! We need to lock it and defend ourselves!”

(My coworker rolls his eyes at the situation and goes into the kitchen to make sure the doors are locked there. Just then, I notice the regular has a bite-mark on his arm.)

Me: “Sir, you’ve been bit!”

Regular: “D*** right! I hit that stupid low-life right back, though! You should–”

(The regular stops talking, a look of abrupt calm on his face. Suddenly, I realize he is turning. I try to finish locking the doors but it is too late. The regular now has a bloodthirsty look in his eyes and is about to attack me, when suddenly…)

Coworker: “Yaaaargh!”

(My coworker rushes a knife from the kitchen. He savagely attacks the zombified regular, with multiple stabs to the brain to bring him down. After the ordeal he is standing there, breathing heavily, covered in blood, staring down at the corpse.)

Me: “Well done getting the zombie.”

Coworker: *looks up in confusion* “He was a zombie?”

Only Likes Seoul Food

, | GA, USA | Working | March 31, 2015

(I’m the customer in this story. I am at a mall food court on a slow weekday and go to the Chinese fast food place.)

Me: “Is [one of the entrees] any good?”

Asian Lady Behind Counter: “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I don’t like Chinese food.”

Me: “…”

Asian Lady Behind Counter: “I’m Korean.”

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